


Turning Points

by Katuary



Series: Choice and Chance [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Big brother Dorian, Caretaking, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Perseverance, F/M, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Minor The Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21548281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katuary/pseuds/Katuary
Summary: The repercussions of a second physical trip to the Fade, facing the beginnings of a demon army, and self-doubt bring the Commander and Inquisitor closer.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Dorian Pavus & Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Choice and Chance [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1445449
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "She hadn't seen Cullen since the gates of Adamant. Not after returning from the Fade, not after she bid Hawke goodbye, not on the long return ride to Skyhold. 
> 
> She should have known that was what this was about. How had she missed the signs?"

She hadn't seen Cullen since the gates of Adamant. Not after returning from the Fade, not after she bid Hawke goodbye, not on the long return ride to Skyhold. 

Evelyn hardly had the chance to look for him once she returned either. The Inquisitor's work was never done, no matter her own worries, and she had two prisoners to judge. After deferring both Erimond and Ser Ruth to the Wardens' justice, she finally had a spare moment.

She wasted no time. Cullen's tower was close to the main hall, especially if she cut through Solas' work area. She was jogging once she reached the path to Cullen's door. _It's probably nothing. He just got caught up, like you did. You know he's always working._ Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was avoiding her. This wasn't like him. 

She opened the door and frowned to find no one but an Inquisition scout posted by his desk. 

"If you're looking for the Commander," the scout said helpfully, "he's gone to speak with Seeker Pentaghast." _What? Why?_ Evelyn's confusion must have shown on her face; the scout gestured toward the western door. Pointing her to the smith as if she needed directions. Evelyn inclined her head in thanks and left. Her pace quickened the moment she was out of the scout's sight. Something _was_ wrong. 

She hesitated outside the door of the smith, already hearing raised voices. She hovered with her fingers just brushing the door's handle, torn between not wanting to interrupt and not wanting to eavesdrop. Cassandra's voice froze her in place before she could finish her waffling,

"You asked for my opinion, and I've given it. Why would you expect it to change?" 

"I expect you to keep your word." Cullen's voice. Gravelly and rough in a way she'd never heard it. "It's relentless, I can't--"

"You give yourself too little credit." 

"If I'm unable to fulfill what vows I kept, then _nothing good has come of this._ Would you rather save face than admit--"

She'd heard enough. She opened the door loudly, interrupting them. Evelyn had no time to so much as open her mouth before Cullen was on his way out. 

"We will speak of this later." Clearly directed at Cassandra, since she rolled her eyes at his retreating back. 

"And people say _I'm_ stubborn," she said, "This is ridiculous." She turned toward Evelyn as the door closed. "Cullen told you that he's no longer taking lyrium?"

She should have known that was what this was about. How had she missed the signs? Evelyn pressed her lips together and nodded. 

"Yes," she answered, "and I respect his decision."

"As do I. Not that he's willing to listen." Cassandra glanced at the fire for a beat before continuing. "Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him. I refused." She waved a hand dismissively, "It's not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He's come so far."

Evelyn's jaw worked, grinding her back teeth. "Is there anything we can do to change his mind?"

"If anyone could, it's you." She lifted a shoulder. "Mages have made their suffering known, but templars never have. They are bound to the Order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself--and anyone who would follow suit--that it's possible. He _can_ do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall." She nodded toward the door. "Talk to him. Decide if now is the time." 

_Why? Because I'm his friend? Or because I can technically order him to do as I please?_ She didn't get any answers; Cassandra had already left.

Either way, she would do all she could to talk him down. _Decide_ for him. What gave her the right? She took a deep breath, dissipating her anger, before making her way outside. 

* * *

The door to Cullen's office was still open when Evelyn returned. She only took half a step inside before Cullen shouted and something heavy crashed into the wall near her. She froze, but only had to take one look at his contorted face to know it had been a mistake. 

"Maker's breath! I didn't hear you enter. I--" He closed his eyes and shook his head, cutting off his panicked words. His gaze fixed on his desk when he continued, "Forgive me." He sounded exhausted, worse than just moments ago. Evelyn frowned. 

"Cullen, if you need to talk--"

"You don't have to--" A pained groan cut his protest short. He had to grip the corner of his desk to keep from collapsing entirely. _Don't have to talk?_ He was lucky she didn't run for a _healer_. She tried to approach him, to offer what little support she could, but he warded her off with his free hand. "I never meant for this to interfere."

Evelyn stopped in her tracks. Her frown deepened, "Are you going to be all right?"

He glanced up, at a point over her shoulder instead of her eyes. "Yes..." She didn't believe him. He could tell. He sighed. "I don't know. You asked what happened to Ferelden's Circle. It was taken over by abominations. The templars--my _friends_ \--were slaughtered." Stunned, Evelyn could only stare as he turned to window. Avoiding her again, though she better understood _why._ She took great pains to keep the dawning horror from her face. 

"I was...tortured," he continued, "They tried to break my mind, and I--" He interrupted himself with a humorless laugh. "How can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall." He paced again. "I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall's Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets." He finally turned back to face Evelyn, expression twisted. "Can't you see why I want _nothing to do with that life?_ "

His words were barbs aimed at himself alone. He blamed _himself_ for everything that had happened? She took a tentative step forward.

"Of course I can," she began, "I--"

"Don't! You should be questioning what I've done." 

Her mouth snapped shut and she gnawed the inside of her cheek as he resumed his pacing. 

"I thought this would be better--" he said, "--that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won't _leave me..."_ His steps and voice quickened. "How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause...I will _not_ give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be _taking it!_ " He drove his fist into the bookshelf and Evelyn startled. Cullen continued in a whisper, back turned, "I should be taking it."

 _No._ She couldn't allow this to go on any longer. Cullen had given everything he had to others for half his life. Hurt himself to defend them. He would _knowingly_ throw himself back into that hell, and for what? Evelyn strode up to him, shaking her head.

"This doesn't have to be about the Inquisition," she insisted, "Is this what _you_ want?" She could just as easily order him to stay away from lyrium. It would be simpler, and he would obey a direct order from her. She took a large risk leaving the decision in his hands. But it had to be _his choice_. Whatever Cassandra thought, this one wasn't hers to make. The moment he locked eyes with her, still glaring, lasted an eternity. She only exhaled when he did. 

"No," he answered finally, relaxing the fist clenched against the shelf. His arm dropped entirely, and she took the chance to step tentatively closer. "But...these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse, if I...if I cannot endure this..."

She reached for him without thinking. Her hand moved to rest gently on his chest as she willed her belief to him through her eyes alone, "You can."

He closed his eyes and exhaled, head inclining toward where her hand still lay. After a moment, before Evelyn had time to second guess herself, he looked back at her and agreed, "All right."

* * *

He wanted time alone. Evelyn understood. There was work to be done anyway, and she'd rather take refuge in her quarters than hear one more congratulations on her "victory" at Adamant. Leliana had given her a copy of Hawke's last report before riding for Weisshaupt; she could read that.

 _More reminders of the Fade. Brilliant._

She curled up on the couch in her room with a cup of ginger tea. She didn't bother changing into her nightshirt, but did remove her boots. It would be rude keeping them on with her legs folded on the cushions. _Maker, this couch is ridiculous._ The backrest came nearly to her shoulders when she stood, and the seat was too deep to keep her feet on the floor unless she perched on the edge. Sometimes, she removed the cushions entirely and dragged them to one of the balconies. Better view, better air, and she could lie down properly. 

She thumbed the report as her eyes glazed over. Her gaze wandered to the open window across from her again.

She felt completely useless. All her research had revealed was that, insult to injury, lyrium withdrawal was resistant to magical healing. Not that she had any such talent. At least she was a fair hand at healing potions and poultices. Nothing on the level of real healers, of course, but enough to get by in a pinch. Maker knew she had enough elfroot to keep practicing. 

None of that would help Cullen though. 

Frustrated, she growled and swept a pile of papers from the armrest onto the floor. _That...didn't help._ She sighed and knelt on the rug to pick everything up. Hopefully in the right order. She did _not_ want to admit to Josephine that she'd need a new copy of five different reports...though knowing her, she likely had them all in triplicate. 

Someone knocked at her door. Evelyn jumped out of her skin, nearly scattering the gathered papers all over again. She frowned and set the reports on an end table before heading downstairs. She usually heard anyone coming up the stairwell long before they came to the last entrance to her quarters. 

"Cullen?" He looked _miserable_. White as a ghost with a thin sheen of sweat covering his face. Even so, he carried a stack of scouting reports a foot thick. 

"We had a meeting scheduled," he explained, leaning heavily against the wall.

"A... _what?"_ Evelyn shook her head and sputtered, "Maker, I thought you'd be _resting!_ I..." He was going to be the death of _both_ of them. She sighed and took the papers from him. "We'll go upstairs and _sit_." 

Better than trying to convince him to go back to his tower alone. She hovered near him as he climbed the last of the stairs, ready to catch him if he stumbled, but never coming close enough to touch. The tension was already thick enough to cut with a knife; the last thing he needed was a mage grabbing him without warning. 

He nearly knocked over the spindly end table when he went to sit on the couch, muttering apologies and bringing his hand up to knead his forehead. Evelyn put the heavy papers on the floor and sat next to him.

"Headache?" she asked.

"Among other things."

"Can I...try something? I think cold helps--or it usually helps me--and..." And that would necessarily involve magic. Bad plan.

"All right."

Evelyn frowned, searching his face for any hint of uncertainty. "Are you sure? I understand if it's not..." _Not the best idea because magic has never done anything but hurt you._ "...if you don't want to."

The smallest hint of a smile crossed his face. Affectionate. Warm despite the pain he was in. "I'm sure."

"I...alright then." She removed her long leather gloves and folded them carefully on the bed before returning to the couch with him. 

_Carefully. Focus._ What was the best way to do this?

"I have an idea," she said finally, resting her wrist on the cushions between them, "You can take my hand...move it where you want the cold."

He still had his own gloves on. When his fingers closed carefully around her wrist, she focused on the texture and relaxed. Leather, not metal. Cullen, not a stranger. She could pull back if she wished. 

"You're not doing anything."

She shook her head, leaving her hand entirely limp in his hold, "I won't unless you ask. No surprises." She wasn't even using her frost trick to keep the color from rising to her cheeks. There was no conceivable way he hadn't noticed with his gaze so intently fixed on her face. _Stop that. Focus on making him feel better._ She offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and he nodded in answer. 

He guided her hand until the tips of her fingers just brushed his left temple. She had to rise up to her knees to reach properly. He was impossibly warm...likely from a fever along with everything else. 

"Is it on both sides?" she asked. It didn't escape her that she'd offered her unmarked right hand. If she hadn't had the chance to reconcile the Anchor's new ability with Solas after Haven, she never would have brought it up. She wrinkled her brow and brought her other hand up a touch. He caught it halfway and mirrored the right's position on his opposite temple. Her lip quirked in a sheepish smile. That answered that then. "Ready?" He nodded. "Tell me when it feels right..."

She started with the barest hint of power, a chill at her fingertips as if she'd briefly been in the mountains without gloves. Cullen's expression froze, eyes locked shut, hands tense over hers. 

"Cullen?" She stopped immediately. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"What?" His eyes snapped open.

"I don't want to hurt you." Or make matters worse. _Maker_ , the look on his face alone...she wanted nothing more than to hold him. Make him feel safe. But if making him at ease meant leaving him alone, she would do so without question. 

"You're not," he insisted. He sighed and dropped her hands to the cushions between them. He didn't let go. "I'm sorry. This is ridiculous. This should be easier."

"Easier?" she echoed, "Ridiculous? Of course not." She was rarely this insistent with anyone, let alone Cullen. She gently squeezed his hands, prompting him to look at her again. "Is...there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

He considered for a long moment, "You could...talk?"

She half smiled. "I can do that." Evelyn was normally not much of a chatterbox, but her nerves made her ramble. She could work with it. She let go of his hands and raised her wrists in front of him. "You know Josephine already has me preparing for the ball in Orlais?"

"Is that so?" He took her wrists again, gently guiding her hands back where he'd originally placed them.

"Mhm." She nodded and chilled her fingertips again, just noticeably. "I think she's going to try to find me a dance instructor. Don't get me wrong, it's nice to be _invited_ to something for once, but it's all so...stiff. I've a pile of reading material to sort through so I don't pick up the wrong fork and...reignite the civil war or something." Her eyes met his. They were open this time; a good sign. "A little more?"

He nodded. She allowed more power to the spell, not quite as cold as ice. She _felt_ him relax at that. Good. She chuckled softly. "Varric overheard Josephine, you know. Told me to just 'respond to everything with another question and you’ll get along fine.'" Her Varric impression could use work. Completely different accent. "It's either that, or have Vivienne follow me the entire night as the Official Inquisitorial Interpreter." Not that socialization was the first order of business on a night that would likely include an assassination attempt. _Oh no you don't. Light and airy. Demons don't deal in fluff._

"Your arms are shaking."

"Oh! Sorry..." Evelyn had chosen not to notice. "You're tall. It's...a little bit of a stretch to reach." She'd hoped for a chuckle, but received a frown. She returned it. "What if you lay down? Would that work?" At his nod, she went to her bed and chose the flatter of the two pillows. Easier to fold into a comfortable position. When she turned back, Cullen had taken off his cloak and armor. The discarded items were in a tight pile on the couch. She'd expected him to look smaller without his armor. He cleared his throat and she hoped she hadn't been staring. 

"Is there somewhere to...?"

"Oh...I...of course. I'll just..." Evelyn set the pillow down on the armrest and took the armor, padding, and cloak to the bed. Not perfect, but better than the floor. Wouldn't it scratch if she left it there? She never wore armor that heavy.

_Distracted again. Focus._

She sat back on the couch, stretched her legs out in front of her, and rested the pillow against her thighs. The edge hit her legs at mid-calf, leaving her woolen sock-bedecked feet dangling awkwardly in midair. She wedged herself into the corner and squeezed as close to the left armrest as possible to give him room. Even so, when Cullen settled himself, he had to prop his feet against the far armrest. Not particularly dignified looking for either of them, but that didn't matter where no one else could see.

Her bed had more space, of course, but that was crossing a line. 

She crossed her arms loosely near her stomach until he took her hand again, this time settling her right palm fully over his forehead.

"Scout Harding posted something about dance lessons too," she continued, allowing her hand to chill to its previous level again, "I think she only knows Ferelden style though. I'll have to learn Orlesian. It's a slower dance at least. Less steps to memorize, maybe..."

When she ran out of things to say off the top of her head, she started reading aloud from the reports next to her. Notes on Orlesian etiquette, lists of nobles and which side of the civil war they'd supported, even a budget summary that had snuck its way into her files somehow.

"Maker," she muttered, "we spend more sovereigns on parchment alone than I've seen my entire life. Ridiculous."

Her throat was dry from talking so much. She reached for her tea and wrinkled her nose after a sip. Gone cold. She would have tried to warm it again, but doing so with one hand while keeping the other cold would be the magical equivalent of patting her head and rubbing her stomach at the same time. She'd live.

Besides, he'd fallen asleep. 

He certainly hadn't intended to do so when he came to her. She genuinely believed he'd only come to prove he could still work. But there was no shame in needing rest. She was just glad she could help. Relieved beyond words that she'd found a way _to_ help. 

A curl of his hair had fallen out of place at some point. She brushed it back with her free hand without a second thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of in-game dialogue, but this was always a scene I wanted to expand on more. Plus I'm a sucker for caretaking scenes. I wanted to include a couple other scenes, but this was getting lengthy, so I'm drafting Part Two as we speak...er...as you read!
> 
> By the way, I took a screenshot of my Inquisitor next to the couch to check proportions. I swear that thing would be too big for a Qunari.


	2. Chapter 2

Cullen startled awake near sunset. Evelyn moved her hands away from him immediately as he sat up and scanned the room, disoriented.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. He turned gingerly, but his tense shoulders visibly relaxed at her hoarse voice, "You fell asleep. I...thought it best not to wake you."

"No, I..." He cleared his throat and stood. "I shouldn't overstay my welcome. I'll go."

"You're not overstaying anything," she insisted with a hesitant smile, "I just want..." He crossed the room to hastily gather up his discarded plate and cloak and she stopped speaking. Evelyn didn't dare help, or even move from the couch. Had she done something wrong?

"It's fine," he said shortly, "I should get back." Cullen was already putting everything back on, though his hands were unsteady on the clasps and buckles. She would have offered to help, but that could very well make things worse. She sat forward, letting her feet brush the floor. 

"All right. I'll..." She paused before finishing lamely, "I'll be here if you need anything."

He was practically out the door before she'd finished speaking, but paused at the head of the stairs. Guilt flickered across his face when he caught her watching him. 

"I know. I...thank you."

He was gone, leaving her frozen and confused on the edge of the couch. What had she been _thinking?_

She crossed the room on stiff legs, rubbing her arms. She was pushing too hard. _Clearly_ she'd pushed him. Why else would he agree to something so obviously uncomfortable for him? She _knew_ he was the type to help others while he himself was hurting, and she had to go and...

She groaned and pushed both hands into her hair. Hopefully she hadn't made matters worse. She'd apologize first thing in the morning. No...she'd...send a message? But they'd still have to interact at the war table. Maybe she should...

She shook her head and reversed the direction of her pacing. He _had_ thanked her. He _did_ look better when he left than when he'd arrived.

Or was that her trying to take credit to which she had no right?

 _Stop._

Though it was barely past sunset, Evelyn tugged her day clothes off in a heap and irritably yanked her nightshirt onto her body. A seam frayed in her haste, but she lay that problem aside with her others. Best to see to everything in the morning. 

* * *

**_If it isn't the Dread Inquisitor. The last resort of desperate men. A pity none of the qualified leaders were available. But that's untrue, isn't it? You truly think you were a better choice than someone like Cassandra? No. They chose you because you are expendable._ **

_They trust me._

**_Trust you? A mage? Don't be a fool. You are a tragedy waiting to happen. That's why your commander stays close, you realize? A noble sacrifice, to be the first line of defense against someone like you._ **

**_Nothing to say? Truly? You think he doesn't see your inept banter for what it is: an attempt to destroy his guard? Who wouldn't be civil with a manipulative monster threatening their livelihood?_ **

_Enough!_

**_I see I've touched a nerve. Perhaps you see the truth. It would be safer if you stayed here, where you are a martyr rather than a threat. Let them write their songs and tales about you before they discover what you truly are..._ **

* * *

Ever since Adamant, Evelyn's dreams were filled with the Nightmare's taunts. Nothing new, but barely tolerable.

She woke from a fitful night's sleep to a message slid underneath her door. Brief and to the point: Cullen wanted to meet her.

She would let Commander Helaine and Vivienne know she would spar with them in the afternoon instead. This couldn't wait. She scrambled to dress, very nearly leaving the room with her boots on the wrong feet, and walked quickly to the battlements above the quartermaster. 

The cold pressure in her chest eased when she found him standing at the wall, looking out at the mountains. He seemed calm. More relaxed than yesterday. When he turned at her approach, even his eyes seemed brighter. 

"I wanted to thank you," he started, "When you came to see me...if there's anything..." He rubbed the back of his neck and returned his attention to the landscape, letting out a frustrated breath. "This sounded much better in my head." That was cautiously encouraging. Evelyn moved a step closer.

"I trust you're feeling better?" she asked. She kept her voice soft, in case anything of the pain from yesterday remained. 

"I..." He couldn't seem to decide whether to look at her, but did meet her gaze as he answered, "...yes."

"Is it always that bad?"

"The pain comes and goes." He paused, frowning at a point in the distance. "Sometimes I feel as if I'm back there...I should not have pushed myself so far that day."

 _That day._ Adamant. A fortress overflowing with possessed mages and demons. Evelyn's heart ached. No wonder he had been so affected; it practically had _been_ the overrun Fereldan tower during the battle. What could she say?

"I'm just glad you're all right."

"I am." He turned back toward the battlements with a small smile. Evelyn joined him as he continued, "I've never told anyone what truly happened to me at Ferelden's Circle. I was...not myself after that. I was angry. For years, that anger blinded me. I'm not proud of the man that made me. Now I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened. It's a start." He had sounded hopeful mere moments ago, and now returned to self-blame. She refused to tolerate that.

"For what it's worth," she started, though she knew her opinion was not the one that mattered most, "I like who you are now."

He threw a painfully skeptical look over his shoulder before he faced her. He didn't believe her. "Even after...?"

After what? What had happened yesterday? Did he truly believe she could think less of him for enduring something like that? Or simply for being vulnerable? Evelyn moved closer, resting her hand on his forearm and squeezing gently. Her tone softened, but grew emphatic,

"I'm serious."

Cullen searched her face. She was unsure what he hoped to find, but his expression softened when she didn't move. 

"What about you?" he asked, breaking the silence, "You have troubles of your own. How are you holding up?" Just like him to change the subject whenever it focused on himself. 

"Honestly?" Evelyn crossed her arms loosely near her stomach and stared uneasily over the battlements. "I'm terrified," she admitted, "So many people depend on us. On me. Corypheus is still out there."

"We've made great strides," he reminded her earnestly, "Do not doubt yourself--or the Inquisition--just yet. If there's anything I can do, you have only to ask."

Warmth settled into her stomach as he walked away. Evelyn leaned against the wall, a faint smile at her lips as she watched his progress back to his office.

She startled herself into awareness with a firm shake of her head. She shouldn't think like that. He was her commander. She was a mage. They didn't have _time_ to even think about exploring...whatever this might be. Neither of them could afford to be distracted. 

A final vigorous head shake, and she made her way toward the stairs. She couldn't go on waffling like this. She needed to talk.

* * *

Early afternoon found her perched on the arm of Dorian's chair as he read. A common refuge for her ever since they'd moved to Skyhold, and especially since they'd confronted his father together. She leaned into his shoulder with a sigh and felt him chuckle. 

"I have the _oddest_ feeling you want to talk about something."

She cracked a tiny smile, "Am I that obvious?"

"Painfully. Now get down here before you hurt yourself." He tugged her unceremoniously into the seat beside him and tucked an arm around her shoulders. 

"I can't tell you everything," she warned him, mouth twisted in an apologetic grimace, "It's...not my story to tell."

"I take it this has something to do with your talk with our commander yesterday?"

" _Shh!"_ She twisted around as if she thought someone was hovering at the tower window. "Dorian, _indoor voice!_ _"_

He scoffed and rubbed her arm. "No one's listening to us. Too many birds flapping about. Now, am I right?"

She slumped and gnawed her cheek. "Yes..."

"And...?"

"I..." She hesitated again, shaking her head, "You can't tell _anyone_. I'm serious."

"Consider it done."

"All right. I..." Evelyn frowned. Best to be direct. "He had a...bad experience with a mage a long time ago. And I suppose I...don't know if staying close to him is what's best."

"Because he suggested you leave?"

She blinked. "No?"

"Because you suddenly learned to read minds?"

"No..."

"Because you're understandably uncomfortable around templars on top of all this?"

"Of course not!" _Not anymore_.

"Then what?"

"I just..." She huffed in frustration and kneaded her forehead, "I'm making this all about me, aren't I?"

"Ah yes," Dorian agreed, nodding, "One of your biggest weaknesses. That's why you turned tail and ran the moment you had the opportunity. Must be someone else who went and dumped a mountain on themselves to cover everyone's escape at Haven."

" _Dorian..._ "

"I truly don't know how many other ways I can phrase it. Say _something_ already. You two have been dancing around one another so long, it's making the rest of us dizzy."

She paused an age before speaking again, "What... _do_ I say? I can't just...ask if he has a problem with my being a mage."

"Why not? I have."

"Oh, and how did that work out, exactly?"

"Quite well. He bet he could make me set the sheets on fire."

" _Dorian!"_

"For the record, I won. It wound up being the curtains."

"Not helping!"

"Oh, fine. But really, you're both adults. Just talk to him. You're making this far more dramatic than it has any right to be, and that's coming from _me._ "

* * *

Evelyn fidgeted with the scarf at her neck, procrastinating outside Cullen's closed door. She had raised her fist to knock a dozen times without making contact.

 _Just_ talk to him. As if it were truly that easy. 

No, that was unfair. It _was_ easy to talk to Cullen...even if both of them grew flustered easily. She had confided more in him than she had nearly anyone else. The reverse held true as well; he hadn't discussed Ferelden's Circle with anyone but her.

So they were friends. She knew that much. He would let her down gently if there was nothing further there. She trusted him; it was the only reason she hadn't retreated to her quarters.

Heart pounding in her throat, she knocked. Her ears were ringing so much, she hardly heard his invitation inside. 

When she opened the door, she found Cullen standing at his desk with a pair of scouts. He glanced up as she entered, and the slight smile he gave her doubled her pulse. He held up a hand to quiet the room.

"Was there something you needed?" he asked her.

"I thought we could talk." Evelyn's eyes darted to the scouts, then back. "Alone?"

"Alone?" His eyes widened. "I-I mean, of course."

* * *

Evelyn would have argued that the battlements weren't any more private than Cullen's office, but she had temporarily lost all ability to speak. They had been silent ever since leaving his tower. Worse, she knew _she_ should start the conversation. She had been the one to initiate this, after all. As she gathered her nerve _again_ , Cullen reached up to nervously rub the back of his neck.

"It's a...nice day." 

That snapped her out of her thoughts. She stopped walking and turned toward him. "What?"

"It's..." His eyebrows drew together, and he dropped his hand. "There was something you wished to discuss."

 _Rip the bandage off. The sooner this is settled, the better._ She swallowed hard and let her words fall out in a rush,

"Cullen, I care for you and I--" She cut herself off with an abrupt sigh and diverted her gaze to the stone wall. No, she couldn't do this. She should have known better.

"What's wrong?" She looked up to find Cullen watching her in clear concern rather than confusion. 

"I'm a mage," she said bluntly, flinching at her own tone, "After what you've been through, could you think of me as anything more?" She braced herself for his answer, or, more likely, to reassure him that her feelings weren't hurt. 

"I could." She convinced herself she'd heard him wrong until he continued, "I mean, I-I do. Think of you." Flustered, he rubbed his face and looked at the floor. "And what I might say in this sort of situation." He walked to the other side of the wall. Evelyn tried to gather her thoughts as she followed. Her hands rested delicately on the stone, grounding her as her heart raced. 

"What's stopping you?" 

"You're the Inquisitor," he started. She should have known he'd have a list. "We're at war. And you..." He struggled for words and gestured vaguely, "...haven't always seen me in the best light."

Maker, the way he looked at her--a blend of nerves, affection, and hope--set her uncertainty at ease. Her tension melted into an encouraging smile as she shrugged.

"And yet I'm still here."

"So you are." His voice lowered to a warm murmur as he moved closer. "It seems too much to ask." His hands carefully circled her waist and she shivered. "But I want to." 

Something creaked in the background, but Evelyn paid it no mind. Her eyes drifted shut as he leaned in, and--

"Commander!"

She jumped, nearly smacking her forehead into Cullen's at the scout's voice.

The nearby door crashed shut again, and the scout continued talking, eyes locked on the sheaf of paper in his hand, "You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana's report." Cullen's hands dropped from her waist before the scout could look up. He gave an irritated grunt and turned to face the inadvertent intruder. 

" _What?_ _"_

"Sister Leliana's report," the man repeated obliviously, "You wanted it delivered 'without delay'."

She almost felt bad for the man. He was only trying to do his job, no matter what he'd interrupted. A small part of her wondered if it might be for the best. Better if Cullen had time to mull things over without feeling pressure to give her an answer. This truly was too soon. Evelyn squirmed, but didn't move from her place against the wall. Her hand swept over her cheek, illogically trying to hide her face as if that would make her less recognizable, or at least less obviously embarrassed. 

A long pause passed before the scout spoke again. "Or...to your office. Right..." 

Evelyn made sure to wait until the door shut before she said anything. She drummed her fingers nervously behind her, quelling her disappointment.

"If you need to--"

He kissed her and she never finished that sentence. 

Although she hadn't been kissed in years, she responded immediately, instinctively, parting her lips to taste him. Her hands flexed uncertainly at her sides for a moment before she settled for resting them below his arms, burying her fingers in the soft fabric of his cloak. She savored the moment, the feel of his scar against her lips, of his tongue just brushing hers.

His hands moved from the base of her skull to her cheeks as his lips slowed against hers, then dropped as he pulled away just enough to part from her. 

"I'm sorry..." he apologized immediately. "That was...um..." His voice dropped to a whisper she had to strain to hear, "...really nice."

 _Don't be sorry._ She was still in disbelief, fighting the urge to press her fingers to her lips to see if any of this had been real. Or perhaps pinch herself to be certain she hadn't fallen asleep to a particularly lovely daydream. Perfect. But only if he wanted this as much as she did.

"You don't regret it..." she asked quietly, "...do you?"

"No!" His immediate answer brought a smile of relief to her face, nearly a laugh. Cullen's expression softened as he leaned toward her again. "No. Not at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About time, you two!
> 
> I got the bug where Cullen didn't show up in his office several saves in a row (freaking Skyhold), so my first playthrough I didn't initiate the romance until after HLTA and Perseverance. Something about that feels right, so I kept it...even though that "I want to talk about us." option taunts me every time I go in there to start a conversation.
> 
> Also have a headcanon that the Nightmare is constantly feeding into each party member's fears in the Fade, even when it isn't saying them aloud. Fun! Definitely want to do a deeper dive for Hawke and/or Stroud on that point sometime.
> 
> PS: “Turnin” by Young Rising Sons is one of my favorites for Cullen/Inquisitor.


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